I only want to see the most beautiful of days,
The childhood days of gifting and caring,
Releasing an inner expression of creativity within me
As a gift in every interaction with every Imago Dei.
Everything was suppressed within predictable
False promises, of which, now, leave a rot.
Where the decay takes its strongest grip
Is exactly where freedom once reigned supreme.
These were days with no measurable form,
A time with no time and no reason for categorization,
For the moments within each glowing inspiration
Sustained me with continuous arrivals of affirmations.
I only want to see the most beautiful of days.
They are no longer days, they never were.
They are the clearest embraces of encouragement
Whispering softly to become childlike again.